Imagine, two poodle puppies ignorant of the fact that their breed loves water. They were bred to be water dogs. They were bred as hunters, as well. Our two little puppies hunt assiduously for all manner of woody detritus to nibble on; bits of branches, pine cones, the roots and stems and foliage of an especially yummy favourite: violets, though anything will do, it seems.

Introducing them to the pleasures of being in water isn't one of their favourite experiences. Out on hikes in the woods they display no interest whatever in the streams we come across. And placing them in a bathtub of tepid water for a bath represents a terrifying assault on their sensibilities.

Nevertheless, we decided that they could use a bath in this overwhelming heat and humidity. And so we set about to do just that, the day before yesterday. I toyed with the idea of putting them both at the same time in the bathtub, but soon realized that was fairly unworkable when first Jackie was placed in the tub and I began to lather him with shampoo and he stood rigidly in fear, then frantically attempted to climb over my arms to be free of the water. Coping with two such little creatures at the same time would have been a neat trick.

Jackie was soon nicely lathered and rinsed off; no point leaving him in the tub any longer than necessary and prolonging his agony. While my husband dried Jackie's haircoat, it was Jillie's turn and as soon as we had enough water, in she went. Her reaction was even more dramatic than her brother's. I'd thought that since this wasn't by any means the first bath they'd ever had, they would react more reasonably, and I was wrong.

While I was bathing Jackie, Jillie was at my elbow watching what was happening and clearly concerned for her brother's welfare. Her calls to him were not meant to be reassuring, but took on an anguished tone of hysterical despair on his behalf. Similarly, when it was Jillie's turn to be shampooed, Jackie, by then nicely dried off, poked incessantly between me and the tub to take his turn expressing his dismay over Jillie's dreadful predicament.

Jillie, for her part, was far more persistent and forceful in attempting to rescue herself from the cruelty that I was imposing upon her, poor innocent little tyke. So, after all was said and done and both were nicely dried off, their hair fluffy and wispy-soft to the touch, they celebrated by dashing madly about in all directions, saved from the evil we'd imposed upon those poor defenceless little creatures.